By Blood and Darkness
by ForzaOUAT
Summary: When Maurice returns from battle he insists that they no longer have cause for fear. He has come into the possession of something that can protect all of them from the ogres. He realizes too late that his daughter is drawn to the danger and her fascination could cost everyone their lives.
1. Chapter 1

By Blood and Darkness

Part 1

The Dark One

Belle paced on the top of the parapet; waiting, hoping, praying. Surely her father should be back by now. She could see at least one of her maids standing impatiently inside the door. She shouldn't be out here, but it was the only place in the castle that offered her a view of the entire grounds. She didn't care what they thought, she would wait.

Several hours later found her curled up under a blanket, still watching as dawn began to press against the sky. She was tired, terrified and filled with a lingering despair she was desperately trying to ignore. King George wouldn't have let anything happen to her father, would he? Her father had been adamant that he would accompany the knights who had been called into the King's service shortly after the ogres had breached the lines and passed into his lands. It was admirable that he would want to make sure the young men arrived safely (or at all), but he was far too old to actually fight. Wasn't he? She stood, shaking off the cold despite the blanket wrapped around her, and walked slowly to the door. What would she do if he never came back? For her entire life, they had only had one another, her mother having died in childbirth.

She was just inside the door; about to close and lock it when she heard the sounds of horses coming from below. She didn't bother to check; it had to be him. She ran down the stairs, throwing open the solid wood door leading to the road and waited. She was certain she was going to faint from the relief that flooded her when her father rode in to view.

Belle ran out to meet him. "Oh Papa! Thank the gods, I feared the worst."

Lord Maurice dismounted his horse and pulled her into a fierce hug. Despite the bone weary exhaustion that was clear in his face, he was smiling. "I'm fine, my girl. Better than fine."

Belle stepped back with question in her eyes. "What's happened?" It was much too soon for the ogres to be in retreat.

Maurice cast a look over his shoulder nervously. "Not out here, my girl. Inside. Someone might be watching."

The relief had passed and now Belle felt suspicion rising as she followed him into the castle. They walked for quite some time, taking random turns and moving through secret passages that made little sense.

Finally, her father came to a stop, turning to face her, although she could not see well in the darkness. "Papa?"

She thought he nodded but it was hard to tell. "I'm fine. We're all going to be fine. Look at what I have." He reached inside his coat and extracted something that glinted in the small amount of light they had.

"I can't see it," Belle said, her voice both curious and filled with trepidation.

"Wait." There was something about his voice that made her hair stand on end. Something …different about his countenance. He had been in despair when he'd left, fearing for the lives of all the young men who fell under his command. Now he was positively jovial, and it was making her nervous.

Slowly, the item in his hand began to glow until is was so bright it lit up the dank hallway. It was a dagger with a waved blade about the length of her forearm. She could see the writing on it, but she had no need to. This blade was the stuff of legends …of nightmares. She gasped, taking several steps away.

Maurice managed to pull his attention away from the prize to focus on his clearly distressed daughter. The pleased, wolfish glint in his eyes made her shudder with fear. "Don't be afraid, Belle. Everything is going to be fine now. I control the Dark One."

Belle stared at her father in horror. "Papa! Are you out of your mind?"

Her father's gaze had returned to the dagger. It was as if he didn't even hear her. He was completely consumed by the blade in his hand and the intensity on his face caused a shiver to run down Belle's spine. She tugged on his arm. "Let's get out of here, Papa. Please?"

The voice came from behind them. It was pitched high, almost grating to the senses and sounded as if the speaker was only a moment away from laughing. "Now, now, dearie. What is your rush?"

Belle gasped and spun around. A small shape completely engulfed in a hooded robe stood several steps away. He was only slightly taller than Belle herself. With the light coming off the dagger, she could just barely make out an unusual face. He didn't look entirely human, his skin seemed to be textured with something akin to scales and appeared a sickly green. He had long, thin hands with nails so pointed they could be called claws. Within the depths of the hood his eyes glistened with mischief. It was frightening and she silently wished for her father to send him away.

"I did not call for you, Dark One." Belle nearly sighed with relief when her father asserted himself. The creature should go ...wherever it was he went when he was not needed.

He didn't move. "I go where I wish, my Lord," he said with a sneer in his voice. "You control the magic, not the person who wields it." To prove his point he disappeared in a puff of purple smoke and reappeared mere inches from Belle's face. When she gasped in surprise, he smirked, but when she refused to step away from him, his expression turned to mild interest. "Do you not fear me, child?"

Belle got a better look at him now. He was not nearly as frightening close up. The green of his skin was more of a gray and something she could not identify sparkled beneath the surface. Although his teeth were darkened with what appeared to be rot, his breath did not bother her, even as close as he was. She could feel heat radiating off his body and realized however scaly he might look, he was clearly a man, not a monster as she had been told as a child. His eyes were fascinating. An absolute black with a star burst of gold on the iris. She found herself staring in to those strange eyes, lost in the pain and rage she could see there. "No. I am not frightened."

He raised an eyebrow. "You should be." He disappeared as quickly as he had arrived.

Maurice quickly put the glowing dagger back in his pocket. "Belle? Are you alright?" Apparently seeing the Dark One so close to his only child had snapped him out of whatever trance he'd been in.

She stared blankly at the spot where the Dark One had just been standing. "Yes." She shook her head to clear it and straightened, looking at her father. "Yes. Of course. I'm fine. Let's get out of here."

Her father nodded and they made their way back to the Great Room. When he took his seat, sighing heavily, Belle shook her head. "Go to bed, papa. You look exhausted."

Maurice nodded and stood, pulling the dagger out again to run a finger gently along the blade. "You must stay away from this dagger, my girl."

The vehemence in his voice startled her. "I have no intention of going anywhere near that dagger," she said with more irritation than she intended. Her father didn't seem to notice. He simply nodded and left the room, taking the dagger with him.

#

Afternoon found Belle where she usually was. Curled up in the library with a book in her hands. She was so engrossed in the story she did not see the Dark One as he prowled toward her. "Good book?"

Belle started, and then fixed him with a glare. "You do that on purpose."

He didn't answer, but the hint of a smile on his face confirmed her suspicion. Now that he stood in the sunlight, Belle could get a decent look at him. His robe was not black, as she had believed, but a deep plum shot through with gold. He was still slight, almost painfully thin, but in the light, his skin appeared less sickly, more human somehow. His eyes were the same. Black and gold. She could still see the hint of pain and an almost consuming rage. It tugged at something in her heart. Did he like being the Dark One? Having all that power at his disposal? Or did he regret becoming what he was? Did he look back at whatever had happened and feel sorrow? Is that where his deep seeded pain came from? She spoked before her brain had a chance to tell her the question was inappropriate. "Why are you so sad?"

The Dark One looked taken aback by the question. As if people never bothered to ask him about himself. He stared at her, the same expression of mild interest he'd had earlier on his face. "Why do you ask?"

His voice seemed lower now, the high pitched gleeful tone having disappeared in favor of something deeper, more accented and softer. "I'm curious."

They stared at one another. Neither willing to pull away lest it speak of weakness. "I am not sad," he said, finally, after several moments of contemplation.

Belle shook her head. "I see it in your eyes."

It was finally the Dark One and not Belle who looked away. His voice was harsh when he spoke. "You see nothing in my eyes, child. I am evil. You would do well to remember that." He stepped closer, turning his face to pin her once again with his eyes. "Make no mistake. If given the opportunity I will kill you and your father and take my dagger."

She should be frightened. She knew that. The most powerful being in the realms was, quite literally, threatening her. She should be terrified, but she was not. There was something about him. Something he took great pains to hide. Something vulnerable. "I'm not afraid of you."

His eyes sparked with irritation. "You should be."

Belle nodded. "I agree and yet, I do not feel fear. I cannot create an emotion where it does not exist."

He glanced at the book laying open on her lap. "Do not mistake me for one of the characters in your stories, child. I am not a hero. I am not a servant. I am the Dark One."

"I am not a child ...Dark One," she said, closing the book. "My name is Belle."

Something passed across his face briefly and then he composed himself. "You should be careful who you give your name to, Belle. Names are very powerful in black magic."

She shrugged. "Did you not just say you were going to kill me should you gain control of your dagger?" He nodded and she continued. "I daresay your uses of my name will be limited if I am dead."

He snorted and Belle smiled. He had a sense of humor, that was something she had not expected. "Do you often make jokes about your life, ch ...Belle?"

Her smile widened. "Only if it suits the situation."

The Dark One stared at her for several more minutes in bewilderment before finally shaking his head and disappearing in a haze of smoke.

Belle tried to return to her book, but her mind was filled with thoughts of the Dark One. She should not be so interested, she knew it was dangerous, and yet she could not help being curious. Was he deadly? Without a doubt. And yet Belle wanted to know his story, she wanted to know what drove him, she wanted to looking beyond the menacing mask he wore and see what she found underneath. She sighed. One day, her curiosity was going to get her killed.


	2. Chapter 2

By Blood and Darkness

Part 2

Memories and Birthdays

The day was a double-edged sword. It was, on the one hand, Belle's birthday and the castle was alive with preparations for a serious party. It was also the anniversary of her mothers death and as many times as she had asked her father not to celebrate, he never listened. She supposed this was his way of coping and therefore did not complain.

She was holed up in the library, hoping that perhaps with all the people arriving they might actually forget her. Yes, it was unlikely since the party was, in fact, being held for her, but she couldn't help wishing.

"It would seem, my Lady, that you read excessively."

She didn't even look up from her book. "I don't think one is capable of reading to excess."

The Dark One moved further into the room. "Should you not be welcoming your guests?"

Belle snapped, raising her head and glaring at the man who had intruded on her privacy. "What the hell do you know about it? Don't you have anything else to do?"

His eyes widened for barely a second before his face fell back into a sneering mask. "I touched a nerve. Women are so strange about growing older."

"I couldn't care less about growing older," she said, tears threatening to break free. "Please go away."

The Dark One tilted his head to the side in confusion. "I have upset you. That was not my intention."

Belle dropped her head, the words of her book swimming as tears welled up in her eyes. "I really do not care to talk with anyone at the moment. Please."

He was at a loss. Since long before he became the Dark One no one had ever used the word 'please' when requesting something. He was familiar with 'now' or 'hurry' but never 'please.' There was something about this girl ...something he had never encountered before, something different and although he had never been good dealing with weepy women he found he did not wish to see her cry. His voice softened. "What ails you, child?" He shook his head. Where in the realms had that come from? He didn't care what was wrong with her. It made no difference ...at least, it shouldn't. He did not, however, leave the room. He stood in front of her waiting to see if she would answer him. It was so confusing.

Belle snapped at him. "I am not a child." She was making an attempt to sound angry, but the sadness was clear in her voice.

"Indeed." He should have left. He meant to leave. He had every intention of leaving and yet, he didn't. He dropped down in front of her, balancing on his haunches, staring at the young woman weeping in front of him. "What's wrong, Belle?" He stopped short. He had no idea why he kept asking or why he was being nice at all. She was his owner, he was her prisoner. And yet while he knew he should feel as much hatred for her as he did her father, there was something there that he could not place.

She spoke so softly he almost didn't hear her. "My mother."

Her mother? He had not seen another Lady about the castle. Granted he had not really been overly curious about the inhabitants to begin with, but surely he would have noticed his owners wife.

"Is she ill?"

Belle glanced up. She had never been able to talk about her loss to anyone. It hurt her father too much to speak of it and most of the servants had never known her. "She died."

The Dark One paused briefly and then reached up and pulled the hood from his head. He watched her with a mixture of fear and sympathy. "Today?"

Belle nodded. "On this day, 20 years ago." She looked back down at her hands. The pain of loss flared inside her, a sharp, ragged wound that was torn open on a yearly basis and never given the chance to heal. Tears spilled down her cheeks and she did nothing to stop them. She had never cried over her mother. Had never faced the emotion of knowing her birth had ultimately caused her death. That no matter what anyone else said, it was her fault. Logically, she understood that she should not feel responsible, but she did and she had never really faced her guilt before.

The Dark One shifted slightly and reached for her. Belle had no idea why she accepted his pity. Perhaps it was her own guilt that pushed her off her seat and into his arms. Whatever the reason, she found herself weeping into his chest, his strong arms wrapped around her and for the first time in years she felt peaceful.

He said nothing, simply stroking her hair and letting her cry. Inside, his mind was screaming at him to get away from her. To not revel in the feeling of a woman in his arms, to not notice the sillky softness of her hair, to not enjoy the warmth and fresh scent of lavender. This was a recipe for disaster and yet, he could not bring himself to release her.

Slowly, the tears subsided and Belle realized she was still in his arms. She pulled away and stood up, straightening her dress; relieved when he did the same. They stared at one another in awkward silence. He looked different somehow. The usual sneer he wore was gone; his face suddenly filled with emotion. His eyes were softer as if he understood what it was like to lose a loved one. It made him look more human, less the monster of legend. Knowing he had a heart that beat within his chest made her want to reach out to him. Belle shook herself. This line of thought would get her in trouble. The Dark One did not have a heart. He was not human. And yet ...she had felt it beating under her cheek as he held her, as he gave her something she had needed for so long. He had given her the ability to grieve. "You don't have to console me, Dark One. I can take care of myself." It was a dismissal, and he knew it, but he did not walk away.

"Rumplestiltskin."

Belle looked up. "What?"

"I do have a name. I have not always been the Dark One."

Belle was stunned. "You said names have power."

He nodded. "I somehow doubt you will be involving yourself in dark magic."

Belle actually grinned and he felt some kind of strange satisfaction that he had managed to make her smile. "You never know."

Rumplestiltskin turned and made his way toward the door of the library. "But I do know," he said, and then he was gone.

Belle stared at the door for a long time. She was not sure what had just happened. Why would he be nice to her? Why give her his true name? Was he trying befriend her so that she would betray her father and give him back his dagger? She scoffed. Well, that wasn't going to work. She would never do anything to hurt her father. She would simply have to stay away from Rumplestiltskin from now on. There could not be friendship between them. She didn't even know if he was capable.

There was a knock at the door and Belle felt her heart speed up. Had he returned? Her father stuck his head in the door. "The guests are arriving, my girl." She chided herself on the feeling of disappointment that washed through her. No one had ever benefited by expecting the Dark One.

Belle sighed. "I'm coming Papa." She looked up and gasped. Her father looked awful. There were dark lines under his eyes and he looked more tired than he had the day before. "Are you well, Papa?"

He tried to smile. "As well as can be expected."

It was the first time he had made any reference to Belle's mother. He looked so forlorn that Belle crossed the room and embraced him. "You know you don't have to throw a grand party every year."

Her father sighed. "I would not have you mourning on your birthday, Belle. It should be a day of celebration."

She knew arguing with him would be pointless. "Of course it is, Papa, but after the party I insist you rest."

He nodded. "I will. I promise. But now, let us celebrate. Gaston has just arrived."

Belle made a face. Gaston. Great. Just what she needed. "How long will you attempt to throw us together?"

Maurice pulled his emotions back into himself and smirked. "Until you agree to marry him, of course. You are 20 years-old. It is time. Just give him a chance."

"I'll be along in a moment," Belle said, not adding that she had, in fact, given Gaston several chances. He was emotionless, egotistical and shallow. On her list of things she wanted in a husband, these did not qualify. She needed someone who would treat her as an equal, someone who would be her partner and not her master, someone who could offer her comfort and above all, someone she loved. Her mind drifted back to Rumplestiltskin. What had he lost in his life that made him feel empathy toward her? How long had he been alive? If she remembered correctly, the Dark One was immortal. How many times had he watched someone he cared about grow old and wither away? She felt sorry for him and that, in and of itself, was extremely dangerous. One did not grow attached to the most powerful dark Sorcerer in the realms. Certainly not when he was enslaved to your own family. But Belle had always been somewhat strange and she couldn't help feeling that underneath all that bravado and sarcasm was a man who was hurting. The gods help her, she wanted to know that man, to ease his pain, to offer him what he had given to her. The chance to grieve.

#

The party was in full swing by the time Belle reached the ballroom. She glanced around, nodding at those who caught her eye and was about to find somewhere to hide when a large arm crept around her waist. "Happy Birthday, Belle." Gaston smiled down at her and she tried not to roll her eyes. He didn't seem to notice her irritation because he leaned toward her as if he were going to kiss her. Belle slipped out of his clumsy embrace and put a hand on his chest.

"Thank you, Gaston."

He did not seem to either notice or care about her obvious attempt to push him away. "You look beautiful."

Belle wanted to snark at him. How would he know if she looked beautiful if his eyes never lifted from leering at her cleavage? In the end she simply smiled as was appropriate for a lady of her station. "Thank you again."

Gaston grabbed her hand. "Let's dance." It wasn't so much a question as an order and with his vice grip on her fingers, she had little choice. He pulled her into his arms and Belle couldn't help notice how different it was. How much less inviting his arms were as compared to Rumplestiltskin. He smelled of beer and smoke and every time he spoke Belle had to turn away from his breath. The Dark One had smelled like the forest, fresh, like a spring rain and underneath was something else, spice or musk that must simply be him. While his teeth had seemed rotten, it had turned out to be only appearance. Like his face and his eternal sneer, it was meant to intimidate, to tell people not to get too close.

When Gaston pulled her flush against his chest, she had finally had enough. She pushed away from him. "I need some fresh air. If you'll excuse me."

He simply nodded and walked away. Belle was both relieved and irritated at the same time. Wouldn't a gentleman at least make an attempt to walk with her? Not that she wished it, but had he not been schooled in how to treat a woman? She glared at his back and walked outside.

When she finally pulled in a breath of fresh air she felt a hundred times better. She hated parties in general and this one specifically. There were too many people in a confined space and she had always felt uncomfortable, wishing instead that she could hide herself away in the library. Within her books she went to so many different places, met so many different people and it was enough ...for now. Someday she hoped she would be able to do some of the things she read about. But that would require getting married and being out from under the scrutiny of her father. Unfortunately, should she marry, she would then belong to her husband. It was a catch-22. One she had no idea how to get away from.

"For someone having a party you certainly spend a lot of time away from your guests." Rumplestiltskin was behind her, leaning against a wall. "I cannot believe that oaf you were dancing with allowed you to come out here alone. Bad things happen in the darkness, my Lady."

Belle almost laughed. What did it say about Gaston that the Dark One had better manners than he did? "Are you to escort me then?"

Rumplestiltskin pushed away from the wall and proffered his arm. "It would be my honor."

Belle stifled a giggle and took his arm. "Why are you being nice to me?"

He looked honestly confused. "I do not understand, should I not be?"

She shrugged. "I suppose I assumed you would be angry."

"Ah .." he said, turning them down another path out of the sight of the ball room doors. "I would imagine I will be ..." he paused and then plowed ahead. "Enslaved to your family for a long time. It would make no sense to be consistently hostile."

Belle dropped her head. She didn't want him to feel like a slave. She had no idea what it was she did want, but not that. "I'm sorry."

He stopped, turning toward her. "For what?"

"That I cannot offer you freedom."

Rumplestiltskin laughed. Not that high-pitched giggle that grated on everyone's nerves, but a full throated laugh that rumbled in his chest and made his eyes sparkle. "Oh, Belle, you are simply too good. I would advise you against ever giving me freedom. I do not enjoy the thought of taking your life, but I will if I have to. Do not think for a moment that my ...kindness toward you would in some way spare your life should I be given the chance to get away."

For some reason, this declaration made Belle feel sad. "So there is nothing more important than escape?"

He considered her, and then held out his hand as the orchestra began a new song. "Shall we?"

She knew he was avoiding the question, but let it go in favor of stepping into his arms. He was as he had been that afternoon. The fresh smell of leaves and dirt, a hint of musk. He twirled her around several times until she was gasping and laughing. "Where did you learn to dance?"

Rumplestiltskin answered without thinking. "When I was a lad there was little else to do for enjoyment. Our village had no books to speak of." The music slowed and he pulled her closer, breathing in the scent of her hair. He felt her shiver. "Are you cold?"

Belle looked up and their eyes met. He was mere inches away and it was mesmerizing. The hand at her waist tightened as she leaned closer, but he did not move, nor did he push her away. Belle was lost in the moment, so very close to this mysterious man and yet she still knew practically nothing about him. It was dangerous and exciting and they were so close now she found herself wondering what he would taste like. He started to close the remaining distance as her forward motion slowed.

"Belle?" They leaped apart at the sound of Gaston's voice and stared at one another in both confusion and desire. A cloud of purple smoke engulfed the Dark One but she was certain she heard him cursing his luck just before Gaston walked into the clearing. "There you are. I was afraid you had gotten lost."

She was flushed, her lips tingling from a kiss that never was and she could still feel Rumplestiltskin's arms wrapped around her. Could see the nervous excitement in his face when he realized she meant to kiss him. He had wanted it as much as she did and try as she might, as she and Gaston returned to the party, she could not get Rumplestiltskin out of her mind.


	3. Chapter 3

By Blood and Darkness

Part 3

Fall

"_In the silence you will find me; wallowing in the depravity of the human soul. Lost to mortality, I live not within your world. By fear and death. By loss and sorrow. By danger and tragedy. I am neither light nor love. I exist by blood and darkness."_

The Dark One had not been seen in several days. Had not been summoned in nearly a week. It was not necessary to be about the castle unless his master had use of him and yet he found himself wandering the stone corridors. It was not, of course, in the hope that he would see a brunette head disappearing around a corner, or happen upon the sound of her laughter. It was simply that he had nothing else to do.

When he had looked about at the slightest noise for the hundredth time he shook his head. He found himself hovering somewhere between confused and angry; his mind returning to the night of the ball over and over again. Had that buffoon Gaston not interrupted them, he would have the memory of Belle's lips, her soft touch, her silky hair ...perhaps more, to ponder as he roamed and it was this, more than anything, that he found both frightening and irritating. He should not care about the stunning eyes of his masters daughter. He should not want her with a desperation that was staggering. He should not resent Gaston with such a fiery passion. It felt as if, should he come upon the young knight, he would not only kill him, but spread his ashes to the farthest corners of the realm.

What had possessed him to give that girl is true name? The last time he'd allowed himself to be vulnerable had been a disaster; a moment in his life he would give anything to forget. He had promised himself that he would never find himself in that situation again and he hadn't. For nearly half a century he had guarded his heart knowing with absolute certainty that he could not love or be loved. It was a part of the curse and he would not change it. He was the Dark One. The man that had once been Rumplestiltskin so long forgotten he was unsure why he still went by that name. He was a monster and a woman had no place in his world, much less in his heart.

He sighed. She had his mind completely twisted around. He should find her and simultaneously scratch the itch she had created and use her up until there was nothing left. That would be the easiest answer and when he was finished, perhaps Maurice would send him away or kill him. It was with that purpose in mind that he turned and went to where he was certain he could find her. He was going to end this. One way or another.

_#_

Belle was in the library which was, in and of itself, not surprising, but her mind was unwilling to allow her the concentration she needed to read. She was preoccupied; restless. Her mind going to Rumplestiltskin far more than was healthy ...or normal. He was the Dark One, after all. A sorcerer of the darkest magic meant to be feared and yet as she tried to shake off the memory of his warmth, of his eyes, of his lips so close to her own she knew it was a wasted effort. She could still feel his breath tickle her face, still see the light of interest shimmering in his eyes. It was something she had not seen in anyone's eyes for a very long time. It was not that he was physically attracted to her, that would have been more than easy to ignore, it was that he genuinely listened to her, seemed to think her intelligence was a good thing and not inappropriate. He did not expect her to be anything other than who she was and she found that horribly attractive. She simply could not stop thinking of him.

She sighed and stood up, searching the shelves for something more interesting. She discarded several books, realizing with mounting irritation that she had read them all. She piled some of them together and walked to the ladder. It was probably best to shelve them before pulling down another group. She paused at the base of the ladder. It was old and splintering from years of wear and use. She was surprised her footprints weren't permanently set in the wood given how many times she had gone up and down. She had mentioned to her father that they should replace it several months ago, but his thoughts had been consumed with worry for his knights; with ogres and wars and death. She didn't blame him for forgetting and she was not about to disturb him now. Although it was early afternoon, she knew her father had not yet risen and she was hesitant about waking him. He had looked so very tired for the last several days, his face gaunt and pale from lack of sleep. She would happily let him sleep all day.

Belle climbed about halfway up and deposited her stack of books on the shelf, lining them up neatly before climbing higher to find new ones. She started when a voice spoke from beneath her.

"While I appreciate the view, my Lady, perhaps you should not test the shoddy workmanship of that ladder."

Belle felt her heart speed up and her breath catch in her throat. She knew she should not react to him in this way. It was at best dangerous and at worse, deadly. She shoved her feelings away and glanced at him, rolling her eyes. "There is nothing wrong with this ladder."

Rumplestiltskin snorted. "Really? It looks as if it's about to crumble under your feet."

She turned back to the books in front of her, dismissing him. Half of her hoped he would take the hint and leave her alone and the other half was happy that he had sought her out. It was so confusing. She wanted him and yet she knew she couldn't have him. It was an impossible situation that she should forget. If she wanted a perfect suitor, someone she could call husband she was going to have to take matters into her own hands and actively look. Her father seemed settled on Gaston and she had no intention of spending her life with him.

She gathered several books and balanced them precariously in one hand while starting to descend. She was two steps down when her dress caught on the rung. Without thinking, she leaned her weight forward, and released her grip on the ladder momentarily to free her clothes before they were ruined. She had not considered the weight of the books and wobbled as they pulled her backwards. She over corrected, trying to regain her balance and felt her feet slipping. Belle dropped the books and grasped frantically at the wood, but she was already too far away. Her feet went out from under her and she dropped like a stone toward the hard floor. She had only seconds to realize she was about to die and then she landed. It was not nearly as painful as she expected. Warmth enveloped her, strong arms came around her and she could smell the scent of forest and leather. Belle opened her eyes. She was being held in Rumplestiltskin's arms, pressed against his chest.

His breathing was labored and he looked angry. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?" He spat at her and Belle paled. She had dismissed him and had he not stayed against her wishes she would very likely be dead now. When she didn't respond, his face softened. "Belle? Are you alright?"

Her mind was running rampant. The warmth of his body pressing against her was causing her hair to stand on end and her skin to tingle. She stared into his face; unwilling to move. "I think so." She paused, trying to take stock of all her limbs. "Thank you."

Rumplestiltskin growled deep in his chest. This girl was going to be the death of him, but as he stood there, with his arms wrapped around her, looking into her sapphire eyes, he simply couldn't find it in him to care. He pulled her closer and crushed his lips to hers. She went still for only a moment before her arms encircled his neck and she responded in kind. He traced the seam of her mouth with his tongue and she gasped, giving him the opening he needed to plunge in and consume her. The need to taste her had been following him, tormenting him for days. She was vanilla and honey, sunshine and innocence and he could not have stopped himself had he tried. He pushed every doubt into the back of his mind and tightened his arms. She didn't pull away from him; her hands gripped his shoulders, her fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck and sent lightening rocketing through his body.

Belle had never been kissed in this way before. His tongue found her own and traced around it until things low in her body tightened causing her to press closer to him. Her hands left his nape when she realized he was not going to drop her, and plunged into his hair, combing through the curls, and scraping her nails over his scalp. She heard a low moan and it took several moments for her to realize it had come from her. The hand under her knees caressed the back of her thigh as the kiss deepened, becoming something more frantic, almost desperate, although Belle was unsure what it was she wanted. Her mind clouded over with pleasure. She had not known it was possible to feel like this simply because of a kiss. Gaston had attempted to kiss her once before and it had been disgusting. An intrusion she did not appreciate. There was nothing in the feeling of Rumplestiltskin's warm lips and soft tongue that made her feel anything but need.

It ended as suddenly as it had begun. He released her, placing her on her feet and stepping away. She felt the absence of his heat in every fiber of her being. When her eyes found his he looked flushed, his hair was tousled, and his eyes were filled with confusion and what she could only describe as fear.

He stepped away from her and he had no idea why. She was responding to him as if they were lovers and he knew he could take her now if he chose to do so. He should. He wanted to. He could take advantage in this moment and do things to her body that would leave her trembling and naked in his arms. And yet ...he didn't. He backed away from her as if burned and waited for her to come to her senses. He watched as the need and desire drained from her eyes and shock settled in it's place. What she had just done, what she had been offering, slowly took over her face. He assumed he would find disgust there when she realized, but even as she reached up to touch her lips, he did not see it. Surprise, yes. Shock, yes. A healthy dose of fear and an altogether unhealthy glimmer of want, but not disgust.

"I would leave you to read." He bowed awkwardly and started for the door, only stopping at the sound of her voice.

"Rumplestiltskin?"

He should go, walk away and pretend he did not hear her. But, as seemed par for the course today, he did not. He stopped, but did not turn toward her. "What is it, Belle?"

"I'm sorry."

He had expected many things in that moment. Her apology was not one of them. He turned to face her. "Why?"

Belle met his eyes. He could see strength there and more surprising, sadness. "I do not wish you to be enslaved to my father."

He was silent for several minutes before he finally shrugged. "There is nothing you can to do change it, my lady. I would advise you against even considering it. Do not forget who I am, Belle. Do not forget what I am capable of."

Rumplestiltskin walked out of the library and this time, Belle let him go. She could still feel the pressure of his lips; still taste the forest on her tongue and it made her want on a level she did not care to evaluate. He was right. He was darkness, he was danger and should she free him, he would kill not only her, but her father and even if he didn't, even should he promise to leave them unscathed, he would be gone and she would never see him again. She was not willing to take that chance.


End file.
